Labyrinth
by Jocelyn Ralph
Summary: Remember in the movie, the little book "Labyrinth" she was reading? Maybe this was what it was. . .
1. Tragic Begginings

Sarita was the unwanted firstborn of a king; unwanted because she was born female. Virtually ignored by all but her mother, and barely acknowledged by her father, Sarita's childhood was lonely. Sarita became independent, being alone most of the time. She was happy, though, despite the unfairness of her situation. She loved her mother very much, for she was the only friend Seth had. When she could, the queen played with Seth, and taught her. So passed the first ten years of Sarita's life.

***

There were hurried footsteps in the hall outside her door. Grabbing her robe, Sarita jumped from her bed and opened the door.

"What's going on?" she asked a passing servant.

"The queen is in labor." He said absently to her. "Get the king!" he said to another servant. Sarita gasped, and started running to the queen's bedchamber. She burst through the door, and ran to her mother's side.

"Mother, how are you?" she asked. Her mother's face was pale and covered by beads of sweat. She nodded to her daughter, and groaned as a contraction took hold of her. Sarita found her hand holding her mother's, and they sat together as minutes passed. They seemed an eternity.

Suddenly the doors were thrust open, and the king entered. Sarita stood and curtsied, and was indifferently pushed aside. She stood by, and watched as her mother became paler, and soon she was gasping for breath. The final contraction was upon her, when suddenly her body began to convulse. The nurses and midwives were running and yelling all over the room to do something.

"What's going on?" the king boomed. "Why is she doing that?"

"She having an aneurysm, sire! Have you no doctor near?" was the reply of a midwife.

Sarita wasn't able to hear the rest, for she was being led out, and back to her own room. She sat on her bed, waiting for the news she knew was going to come. Tears burned her small face, and she hoped that at least the baby was alright. She hoped it was a boy. She buried her face into her hands and curled up on her bed, and fell asleep weeping.


	2. The Goblin King

Two years had passed since the queen's tragic death. The Princess Sarita was turning twelve, and the king has not remarried. In the two years since her mother's death, Sarita led an indifferent life. Her father completely ignored her, except when duty required interaction between the two. One such occasion was the New Year's gala. People from all over, many kingdoms, were invited. Most usually came.

This year's was bigger than the last, and all who were invited came. Sarita readied herself in her party gown with the help of a servant. Because she was princess, and the only woman of royal birth, she was in theory the mistress of the king's house. So, her place at the gala was at her father's side, however much either disliked it. She certainly looked the part that evening. She was escorted by a servant to the dais, and handed over to the king, who graciously led her to the chair beside him with false smiles. She gave him her best and most radiantly ladylike smile, and sat in her chair.

"You look lovely tonight." He said, although his tone was dispassionate.

"Father, you and I both know you don't give a fig what I look like. Maybe we could just be quiet, and not talk?" Seth said coolly.

"My dear, that is a wonderful idea," he concurred and was silent. Soon Sarita was bored, and was allowed to leave the dais and join with the guests in dancing.

Most of her partners were foreign nobles. She loved their accents, and she found the stories they told her entertaining. The people were exotic and different then any she had met. And then there were the familiar faces which were comforting to see.

Sarita was dancing with a foreign dignitary when her father cut the dance short to introduce her to the only other royalty present besides themselves.

"This is the Goblin King, come all the way from the Underground. This is my daughter, Princess Sarita." She curtsied, while he gave her the slightest bow.

"How old are you, Sarita?"

She grinned impishly at him. "Guess," she said, and danced off with her partner. The king apologized for her pertness.

"I don't know what's gotten into her tonight," he explained.

"How could you? She's just a girl, a thorn in your side, yes?"

"We see eye to eye."

"Indeed."

Sarita saw her father and the Goblin King talk. She couldn't hear them, but as they turned away, she saw the Goblin King roll his eyes to her father back. She laughed, and her dance partner looked at her strangely, wondering why. She smiled awkwardly, and resumed her quiet disposition.

The rest of the night passed uneventful, and the gala came to an end. Sarita headed back to her room and changed into her night clothes, and she sat at her vanity while a servant undid her luxurious brown hair and left. She stared into the mirror blankly, and suddenly something caught her eye: a small crystal ball hanging from the chandelier. She turned to look at it, but it wasn't there, so she turned back to the mirror. There it was again. She jumped up from the vanity and backed away to her bed.

_What is that, _she thought. She looked back at the mirror, but nothing was there now. She took a deep breath. "I'm just tired, that's all," she said, and she lay down to sleep.


	3. Mirror Mirror

A week after the New Year's gala, things had returned to normal. Sarita did as she pleased, and continued to be ignored by her father. This day, she was reading in her room. After a few hours, she sighed and decided to take a turn about the room. As she moved, she saw in her mirror the same small crystal ball sitting on the vanity. She dropped her book. The ball wasn't on the real vanity. How was it on the one in the mirror? She reached out her hand to touch the mirror, and found the crystal ball in her hand. Intrigued, and somewhat frightened, she examined it. It was smooth and cool. But then it started becoming warm, and then hot. In seconds, it was so hot that she threw it back to the mirror. Instead of shattering, the mirror absorbed it like a rock falling into water.

"What's going on?" she whispered, backing away from the vanity. A figure began to appear in the mirror, behind her.

"I'm quite sure you are not supposed to throw things at mirrors," a voice vaguely familiar said.

"Seven years bad luck?" she answered nervously.

"Perhaps," was the reply, as the figure became recognizable.

"I don't believe in luck."

"What _do_ you believe in?"

"Magic," she said. "How are you in my vanity mirror?"

"Magic." He grinned.

"You are the Goblin King?" He nodded. "You answered how, but _why_ are you in my mirror?"

"I came simply to talk."

"Just to talk?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes, no one ever wants to talk. At least, to me."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know. . ."

"Don't you?" he raised an eyebrow. Sarita shifted uncomfortably where she was, and moved to sit in the vanity chair.

"Because I'm not male," she said, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Hm, I wonder if gender has anything to do with talking."

"No, I suppose it doesn't." She paused. "It shouldn't, anyway." she wiped her eyes. Suddenly, something occurred to her. "Are you always going to be there, watching?"

He laughed."I shall only come when you call me."

"How do I do that?"

"The same way you did tonight." She looked down at her hand and found another crystal ball there.

"Oh," she said, and looked up, but the Goblin King was gone. She sighed. It has been long since she had anyone to talk to, and although the Goblin King was strange to her, she was glad she had someone to talk to again.


	4. Little Brother

Another two years pass. The king remarries; a rich noblewoman of good birth is his chosen bride. Reeanne was a woman known to be an indifferent kind of woman of the perfectionistic type. For her, everything must be just so. As a mere noblewoman, she was used to limited power and privileges; but now, as Queen, she was limitless, and her true self was revealed. She unleashed cruel haughtiness upon the servants, and even on those of higher, although lower than hers, rank. Soon she learned of Sarita's situation. She shared the King's opinion and was incensed that Sarita was not being made use of. However, she said nothing about it, not knowing under what employment she would place the girl.

In a short amount of time after the marriage, the Reeanne gave birth to a son. The kingdom rejoiced with their king and queen. Sarita was silent, her feelings on the occasion mixed. If certain traits of her stepmother had been the opposite of what they really were, she would have rejoiced, too. As it was, she was glad to have a younger sibling. But she had apprehensions concerning her stepmother.

The boy was named Shey, and on the day of his christening the queen informed Seth of her new duties, which were to attend to the child during the day.

_That's not so bad_, Sarita thought. "It's time you earned your keep in this place. I'll not have any uselessness in my house," Reeanne told her.

At first it wasn't so bad. But as the boy grew older, he began to comprehend, and understand the rules (or lack thereof). There were few rules the boy had to obey. There were, however, many that Sarita had to. And as the boy grew, the queen added more duties to her. Clean up after him, do whatever he wants, feed him, play with him, take him places.

Most of her time was spent cleaning up after him. Shey was all over the place as soon as he could walk. His curiosity was insatiable from the moment he could speak, and as she set about cleaning one mess, he'd run off over somewhere nearby shouting questions about this or that, creating another mess for her to clean.

Sarita was fond of Shey, despite the fact that he often wore her out, sometimes on purpose. When they were alone, he would behave quite well with her, with just a touch of orneriness. In public, he was a wholly other creature, taking advantage of her, playing nasty and spiteful pranks on her.

When he was four, he began to slightly confuse things, and sometimes he was spiteful to her when they were alone, and was nice to her in public. But these occasions were few, and he usually stuck to his normal code of behavior. As unhappy about is as she was, Sarita could do nothing about this, and so offered her complaints to the only person who would listen. Every night she would declaim her troubles to the listening ears of the Goblin King. He rarely spoke to her, but she didn't care. She just needed someone to vent her frustrations and sorrows to.

A year later, the boy was five years old, and Sarita nineteen. On a particular day, Shey was angry at no one specifically, as he sometimes was. He was feeling especially spiteful, too. Sarita, as usual, was his target.

The next day was a garden party, and Sarita had to be there, to watch him. Also, the king and queen planned to marry her off soon (Sarita, of course, knew nothing of this), and there would be plenty of prospects there. In the night, Shey snuck into her bedchamber with a pair of shears, and chopped off her lovely dark locks to her, leaving is hanging at her chin.

When she caught sight of her hair in her vanity the next morning, Sarita was horrified, and she cried. She found her own shears, and did her best to even out the choppy job done by her little brother. When Sarita asked Shey if he had cut her hair he innocently replied no, but she could see the guilt in his eyes. She turned him out of her room. So she could get ready for the party, she assured him. But she was angry, and didn't want to see him at the moment. Quickly she put her undergarments on.

Running to her vanity, she picked up the crystal ball in the reflection, and threw it at the mirror, a little harder than usual.

"What did your mirror do that you throw the crystal at it so hard?" a familiar voice asked, amused.

"He _cut_ my _hair_!" she said angrily, making exasperated gestures at her head. The Goblin King arched an eyebrow. "That little . . . that little. . ." she made a frustrated scream, and began to put her dress on. "That little demon! Why would he do that? Yes, he is a little brat sometimes, but he's never done anything to this extent! What am I going to do?"

"About?"

"Him! Shey! If this," she said, pointing to her short locks, "is any indication of the how he'll be, he'll get worse as he gets older. I can't handle that!" The Goblin King leaned forward towards her, sitting in the vanity seat of the mirror, his eyes intense.

"You have only to say the right words, and my goblins will take him away."

Sarita's gold eyes narrowed as she looked at him. It was a tempting offer. Ah, to be rid of the child. She cared for Shey, yes, but she was unsure of him, too. He was unpredictable, and she knew he was bound to get spoiled worse.

But she also knew what would happen to him if she wished him away, and the goblins took him: the Goblin King would turn Shey into a goblin. She couldn't in good conscience do that to him. She was uncertain what to do.

"What words?" she asked, to mask the whirling thoughts in her head. The Goblin King's mouth twitched in an attempt to grin.

"That depends on you," he replied.

"I'll consider your offer."

"It's no offer, it's simply a fact." Sarita nodded, and the Goblin King's image faded from her mirror.

She finished dressing, and took a look in the mirror. Her hair didn't look right, now. She grabbed the shears, deciding she might as well make it shorter, so she cut it close to her head, in the style of a boy. Like her half-brother, her short hair stuck out in every direction. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she found that this length suited her much better than the long hair ever did. She smiled, in spite of herself, and twirled out of her room, down the hall to Shey's.

"Shey," she called outside the door, as she was not allowed in his room.

"Coming!" was the slightly muffled reply. He opened the door, and gaped at the reduced length of her hair.

"You like it?" she asked, patting at her head.

"Sure," he breathed in his husky little voice.

"Good," she said grabbing his hand and leading him to the garden, where the party was just beginning. He raced away from her to his mother, and she slowly followed. Suddenly, in the presence of her stepmother, she was nervous about her hair.

"Dear gods!" the queen gasped, and all heads turned to her, and then to Sarita, for Shey stood by his mother, pointing toward Sarita. The queen, followed by the king, stomped to Sarita. "Just what is the meaning of this?" she asked, horrified. She yanked a tuft of Sarita's hair. Sarita thought for a moment, devising her answer.

"Well," she paused, "I cut it." The queen was silent with fury, obviously embarrassed by her stepdaughter's unladylike appearance.

"We'll speak of this later," her father said with a frown, leading his seething wife away to the wine bowl. All Sarita could do was glare at Shey. She didn't speak to him, though he asked her many questions. She did what her duty required, and nothing more.

Halfway through the day, Shey was bored, for most of his entertainment was because Sarita answered his questions. He wondered why she wasn't talking to him, and soon his little five-year old mind figured that she was mad at him. He burst into tears at her side, and she looked down at him.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed. Sarita's gaze was sympathetic.

"What are you sorry for?" she asked quietly, hoping he knew what he was apologizing for.

"I'm sorry for cutting your hair!" he sniffled. "Please, Sarita?" he appealed to her, his arms stretched upward toward her.

"I forgive you," she sighed grudgingly, and reached down to pick him up and hug him. Somehow he had become cute, and she couldn't resist those big black eyes of his, nor those plump tears that were rolling down his face in remorse. She was still mad at him, enough so that when he asked her questions, she gave him short answers or replies. The afternoon dragged on.

The garden party ended hours before dinner. Sarita was putting on her regular day clothes, when a messenger called her to the Royal study. Slowly, she made her way there, leaving Shey with a maid.


	5. Say the words

Sarita tapped the door and poked her head into the room.

"Come in," was the cold command that greeted her. She humbly stepped through the door and stood in front of her father and stepmother, stared at the floor, and when the queen cleared her throat, Sarita looked up.

Her father was reading, not really paying attention too much. The queen, however, was livid. She stood.

"How dare you appear thus at my garden party?" she fumed. "And, to add to that, holding the hand of the Crown Prince?" She threw her hands up and shook her head, unable to comprehend such an act. "No servant in my house will act in such a way!"

"Servant?" Sarita asked in a sharp intake of breath.

"Yes, until your father and I decide on a husband for you." She paused, scrutinizing Sarita's appearance. "It's about time, too, though I don't know who'd agree to you in your present state," she said with a sneer. Sarita began to mumble a reply, but the queen continued, more to herself than to Sarita. "So much trouble, it's almost not worth the effort. Still," she said turning her cruel stare back upon Sarita, and spoke softly, coldly "your father insists. If it were up to me," she moved closer to Sarita, "you would not be here at all. You're not needed, really. Useless, extra baggage, a thorn in my side." Sarita fought back tears, and the queen stroked her cheek. "After all, a girl cannot inherit thrones. What use can they be, therefore, except to bear children to the unfortunate nobleman she must be thrust upon?"

The king spoke up, finally. "I think, my dear, you've had enough say for the two of us. Go to your room, Sarita." Sarita obediently complied, for once happy to oblige an order from him.

Anger welled up in her. Instead of her room, she stormed to Shey's nursery. This was his entire fault, and even though he had apologized, he had done nothing to make amends, as she thought he might have. "You little brat!" she pointed at him. He was startled, but frowned and stuck his tongue out at her, and resumed playing with his toys, ignoring her. She sank to her knees, sobbing.

The words of her stepmother echoed in her head. She rubbed the tears from her eyes, and other words entered her mind, and she remembered the words of the Goblin King. "Say the right words," he had said, "and my goblins will take the boy away." The next moment she had said them, those terrible words which would whisk Shey to the Underground. Her head shot up, for the room had grown silent, the noise he was making ceased. There was no Shey in the room with her. She sobbed again, wishing she hadn't said the words.

Slowly, Sarita rose, and she burst through the door and down the hall to her own room. Quickly she approached her vanity, grabbed the crystal ball as she had so many times before, and threw it.

"Jareth!" she called, for that was the Goblin King's name. "Jareth, give him back!" She saw his image materialize in the mirror, in a dark corner of her room.

"Yes?" he said, in his naturally dapper demeanor.

"Give . . . him . . . back." She demanded, slamming a fist on the vanity.

"I can't undo what's already been done," he replied. "You said the words." Sarita sank into the vanity chair, and put her face in her hands.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered to herself. She stood again, and looked into the mirror. "Is there no way?" she asked, her gold eyes appealing him. Jareth moved toward her mirror image, and then she noticed that something was different. Usually, in her conversations with him, she had no reflection in the mirror. By the time she realized that he wasn't in the mirror, she could feel his close proximity to her. She turned, and cried out in alarm.

"Hello, Sarita." Jareth greeted, his face bent close to hers.

"Uhh," she mumbled, and backed away as much as she could, which wasn't much: the vanity was right behind her. Sarita swallowed hard. "Is there no way?" she repeated.

"Well," he paced, and put his finger to his mouth in a thinking gesture; "_If_ you could solve my Labyrinth . . ." he paused to think, before he continued, ". . . in three days time, before I turn the young Prince into a goblin, I would return him here."

"Then take me to your Labyrinth, for I must have Shey back."

"Because you're afraid that your stepmother will blame you for his disappearance?" He asked knowingly.

"No," she replied indignant, "because he's my little brother." She hadn't even thought of what the king and queen would think.

"Step brother," he corrected holding her gaze.

"He's still my brother," Sarita countered, putting her hands to her head as if she had a headache. "Take me to your Labyrinth!"

The Goblin King regarded her for a moment, and sighed. "Very well. Look out on the balcony." He pointed to the glass, double doors that led out onto the little, round balcony.

Sarita quickly walked to the doors and pulled back the thin, gauzy curtains that obstructed the view. Sweeping beneath the balcony, stretching across the land, was the Labyrinth. In the center of the maze was a city and in the center of the city was the castle.

Dawn was breaking on the horizon, coloring the sky in deep purples and pinks. Nothing seemed to move except the bushes, trees, and grass which were stirred by a slight breeze. Fog hid portions of the Labyrinth.

"That castle is where I live. It is where you will find the princeling." He began to fade like morning mist chased away by the afternoon sun. "Remember, Sarita, three days only."

"How do I know you will let him go?" She cried out to the empty air, but he was already gone. Sarita sighed and looked around. She climbed over the railing of the balcony and jumped onto the ground.


End file.
